


Flutters

by lehulei



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lehulei/pseuds/lehulei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The saga of Tom and B'Elanna - the abridged version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flutters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlphaFlyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFlyer/gifts).



> I love this pairing. On ff.net this is posted as a series of drabbles but since I finished it, I'm just posting it here as a whole. Enjoy!
> 
> Dedicating the completion of this to AlphaFlyer, who is a brilliant writer and inspiration, especially in the field of Star Trek: Voyager writing.

He felt a jumpstart to his heart at his first sight of her. It was something that he hadn’t felt before and—he would only later admit this to himself—it alarmed him to a large degree. 

He wasn’t a one woman kind of man. He lived for the moment, never stayed in one place too long. He was devil-may-care and cocky. And most importantly, he looked out for himself first. That may have made a lonely existence for him but, he’d learned, it worked best.

This heart-jumping did not fit into the picture. 

So his first words to her did not put him in her good graces at all. 

“Hel-loh,” he said, dragging out the last syllable, accompanying the greeting with an appreciative and very obvious sweep of her figure as she straightened up from the console she was working over in Engineering. 

She was wearing the rough but form-fitting garb that the Maquis favored. She was young but he’d been told she was the Chief Engineer and a brilliant one at that. As his eyes moved up, he took in the small waist, the full lips and met her angry brown eyes with a smile he knew looked more like a smirk. He thought he could see a dangerous red flush starting from the ridges on her forehead marking her Klingon heritage down to the smooth cheek. 

“And who the hell are you?” Her throaty voice sharp.

“Tom Paris, your new pilot, at your service,” he made a slight bowing motion. “And who might you be, honey?” 

He saw the anger in her eyes flare and caught her fist just before it connected with his face.

“The name’s Torres, flyboy. And if you ever call me anything other than that, I’ll rip your tongue out.” She twisted her arm out of his hold with an almost violent motion and walked out of Engineering, leaving Tom smiling and not really knowing why. 

 

 

 

It was strange, working on a Federation ship when she had left Starfleet and its rules, regulations and prejudice behind years ago. 

It was even stranger having to work on the same ship as Tom Paris. His time with the Maquis had ended abruptly with his arrest and she knew he’d been sent to a Federation Penal Colony. She hadn’t expected to see him again. 

But then again, she hadn’t expected to be thrown halfway across the galaxy by a lonely and guilty alien. And then, to be rescued by none other than Tom Paris…fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor. He was still brash and arrogant, an attitude which seemed to be a guaranteed way of getting under her skin. She didn’t like the fact that he was able to do that. 

She stirred her leola root stew contemplatively as she furtively glanced at Paris across the dining hall. He was talking animatedly to Ensign Harry Kim, his hands emphasizing whatever he was saying. She didn’t know what it was about him, but there was something she found appealing despite her aversion to his personality. 

Maybe it was his blue eyes or his fair hair, or, in a rare moment of introspection, she sensed a kindred spirit in him, lonely but defensive and wary of getting close to anyone. Despite herself, she had kept half a thought to him when he was around. She didn’t know what was wrong with her though. She was never going to pursue _anything_ in that direction. He may be pseudo-kindred spirit but he was still a rogue, granted a rogue in a Starfleet uniform.

It had been a week since the Caretaker’s array had been destroyed and she was still getting used to being in the uniform again, following protocol and, most of all, being the Chief Engineer of one of Starfleet’s newest ships. She didn’t want to tell her Maquis friends this, but she actually liked the discipline and the responsibilities that she had taken on.

She’d seen Chakotay slip into the roll of Commander pretty easily. She trusted him implicitly and if he believed in Captain Janeway, then she’d make an effort to back him up. She felt her face flush a little as she thought of Chakotay, his dark twinkling eyes and soft smile coming to mind and she grinned to herself at her ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

Suddenly, she realized she had been staring in Paris’ direction with a silly grin on her face and the pilot was staring right back at her, obvious interest in his eyes. Acute embarrassment slammed into her—embarrassment being followed closely by anger. She got up abruptly, giving him a death glare before slamming her half-eaten bowl of soup into the replicator to recycle.

Kahless, that man irritated her.

 

 

 

A stab of pain went through her, her face contorted in pain and she moved her knees up against her body, as if that could somehow stave off more pain. She hid her face, trying to keep any sound from escaping, cursing the weakness in her. She felt so different, less spirited, just _less_. This was a trial she hadn’t known she would ever have to stand. She was not prepared. There was no grim satisfaction in the challenge of overcoming adversity. That corner of her soul seemed vacant, an essential part of her torn away.

Warm hands tentatively touched her hair, pulling the dark strands away from her face. 

“Hey, you all right?” a familiar voice asked her. She looked up slowly.

In this moment of terror, when she did not feel whole, where half of her had been taken, she looked into his worried blue eyes and felt comforted. Though there was a Vidiian standing guard at the console past the prisoners’ bunks, waiting for the weak ones to reveal themselves for harvesting, here was Tom, shielding her and trying to help her.

She now unexpectedly saw what had actually been happening gradually over time—Tom was a friend, someone she could actually trust with her life. After nearly a year of working in close quarters, seeing his loyalty to the Captain and his friendship with Harry, she couldn’t really think of him as a mercenary, only looking out for number one. 

He’d changed. 

With another ice-white flash of pain racing up her spine, her thoughts were abruptly brought back to the sick violation of her very soul. She dimly registered Tom’s hands moving in soothing motions along her back.

She fought back a gasp and released a scream inside. How was she going to return to her normal self? 

An ancient human nursery story came to mind—one her father had managed to sneak in amongst her mother’s glorious tales of Klingon battle—about an egg who had sat on a wall and taken a great fall. He hadn’t been able to be put back together again.

  
And she got the feeling, neither would she.

 

 

 

There was something about a woman who was hard to get. Maybe it was the caveman in him, but he loved the challenge. He’d thought the Delaney sisters were the hottest—to borrow a twentieth-century term—women on the ship but his feelings on the subject had changed a bit over the months. Harry would think he was crazy so he kept it to himself, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in a fantasy every once in a while.

As B’Elanna explained to the Captain the away mission she wanted to launch to find an energy signature, Tom took the opportunity to ogle her covertly, pretending to actually listen to the coordination. While he wouldn’t call her warm and fuzzy, she’d certainly loosened up to him since being aboard _Voyager_. At least she didn’t try to freeze him with cold looks or wound him with verbal jabs. Well, not most of the time. In any case, he was thankful that her comebacks no longer had any serrated edges. 

He could even say that they were friends. Astonishingly enough, he really liked that he could call her that. When they’d first met on Chakotay’s ship, he didn’t think he’d ever get past the sanctified walls she’d very much made known were there. He enjoyed being able to banter with her without feeling like she was going to deck him if he said something too risqué.

Tom knew he had Harry to thank in B’Elanna’s cooling down to him. Harry and B’Elanna had become buddies on Ocampa (getting the same deadly disease can do that to people) and he’d been sort of the bridge that B’Elanna could use to justify hanging out with Tom. Not that Tom thought that that was all she saw in Harry. He just liked to think that there was a little bit of that in her friendship with the guy, even if he was being a tad conceited.

“Mr. Paris,” Janeway spoke, bringing Tom’s attention back to the meeting. She gave him a look, letting him know she knew that his attention hadn’t been on what was being talked about. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he queried, giving her an apologetic blink. He saw B’Elanna roll her eyes in exasperation. 

The Captain’s face didn’t change except for an amused glint appearing in her eye. “I just told Lieutenant Torres that you would be flying out with her. You’re to meet in Shuttle Bay Two in ten minutes.”

He smiled to himself and acknowledged the Captain with a firm nod. The meeting ended and Janeway dismissed the senior staff. 

He was walking out just behind Harry, when he heard the ensign ask B’Elanna, “Are you and Freddy coming to Sandrine’s tonight?”

Tom felt a heavy rock land in the pit of his stomach. A little surprised at himself, he shrugged the slight dismay off. Was that actually jealousy? It’s not like he actually had any claim on her or that he was even actively pursuing her. And if he was…well, he always liked beating the odds.

 

 

 

 _This is not a date_ , B’Elanna reminded herself. _Not a date. Not a date. Not a date._

_Even though,_ some treacherous part of her spoke up, _we’re both off duty and at a festive luau. And he did say I looked “smashing.” And right now he’s getting me a drink. As if we_ were _on a date._ She forcefully got herself in line. _Not a date!_

Tom showed up with a drink in hand and the butterflies in her stomach were released from their cocoons. Despite the ridiculous shirt that he was wearing, he looked good. 

_Yummy_ , that unfaithful part of her added. He smiled warmly at her and B’Elanna hoped that the heat she felt on her cheeks wasn’t actually showing.

He mentioned finding a table, the nervousness in his voice and manner going entirely unnoticed by B’Elanna, so caught up in her own unusual reaction to him, to the situation. He smiled at her as she tried to respond and she was caught up by the look in his sparkling blue eyes, the tension around them suddenly moving up a notch.

The cool voice of Ensign Vorik interrupted, unwelcomingly. When Tom bowed out without a fight, the disappointment that rushed through her was startling and brought not a little uneasiness to her heart

 

 

 

Why, after all this time, did she have to come onto him then? No, she wouldn’t be open to his advances during the previous months but give her a little of the Vulcan pon farr and she was all game. Tom knew he was being a bit unfair but the discomfort he was currently experiencing was hard to ignore.

He hated that it had been a mutation that had finally had B’Elanna open to having a relationship with him. He guessed that it spoke in his favor that she’d even noticed his interest and semi-returned it. Though she never bothered to show it before. Which caused mild annoyance to Tom. And a pang in his heart, which he ignored.

But ever since that incident, there’d been hardly any acknowledgement of what had happened. Just a flirty look and one innuendo. Hardly anything to relieve the tension that had only thickened between them after their interrupted foreplay.

He closed his eyes on a mental groan, the feel of her teeth on his skin instantly causing reaction in him. Her heated words filled his ears, her sweet hot breath almost felt again.

There was a part of him that was frustrated that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. The baser and uncivilized part of him, mind you. He’d had many a frustrated night thinking of those few hours where she had let her walls—he supposed that was unfair to think—had her walls stripped down, revealing her inner desires.

The lift doors opened and Tom found himself face to face with the woman who haunted his lonely nights and duty-filled days. B’Elanna stepped in, only meeting his eyes briefly, giving the computer her destination. Surprised out of his musings, Tom did the first thing that had been on his mind.

He grabbed her, bringing her body flush against his, her softness contrasting his own hardness. He bent his head and captured those full lips he’d dreamed about, entering her mouth on her surprised gasp. A song of victory played through his mind as her arms came around his head, holding him in place and she responded to his kiss. His hands moved from her waist and up her back so that he could tangle his fingers in her hair, feeling her shiver of pleasure as he traveled the length of her body.

He felt the lift stop and pulled himself back together, letting her go on a gasp and setting her apart from him. Her hair mussed, her eyes wide open in shock, he left her standing there as the doors shut between them.

 

 

 

“I’ve decided that if you divert power from the forward nacelles when the ship’s at Warp 8, the backlash will create a subspace wormhole leading directly to the Alpha Quadrant.”

B’Elanna smiled at the preposterous statement but didn’t stop sorting through the PADDs from her departmental briefing. When there was no obvious reaction from her, Tom came closer to stand next to her, heat radiating from him. She felt her face grow hot and prayed that it wasn’t showing.

More frequently than before, Tom would drop by Engineering—to check on the propulsion systems, ask about tiny quirks he’d noticed in _Voyager_ ’s engines, to make inane comments—B’Elanna found that she didn’t really care. She just liked that he would come by. That’s about all that she was willing to admit because if she actually thought what she was feeling…

“Torres? You there?” came the warm voice that had started creeping into her dreams, until she registered the arrogant tone he was using. 

She turned to face him, crossing her arms and tilting her head up (why did this make her feel small and petite…) to meet his eyes (…and pretty?). “I heard you, _Paris_ ,” matching his inflection. His smirk widened into an _affectionate_ grin. She ignored the pattering of her heart. “It’s just that it sounded like tepid air so I knew you were just warming up.”

When had he become someone she enjoyed bantering with? It wasn’t just Tom who, let’s just admit it, sought her out, but it happened the other way around as well. She’d go through her day and find thoughts like, _Tom would get a kick out of this_ or _What would Tom think_ and even _What’s Tom doing right now_ , slipping into her mental calculations of the dilithium she had left until the next supply stop and other engineering miscellany. Unconsciously she grinned at her silliness, her face suffused with an inner glow that had Tom’s own smile slipping as her beauty struck a chord in him.

His look registered and she felt her mouth suddenly go dry as their eyes held and she realized she wasn’t the only one who daydreamed.

“Excuse me.” The two broke apart, faces a matching red, as Crewman Dell obliviously reached between them to grab a PADD. 

 

 

 

Tom opened his eyes slowly, the remnants of a pleasant dream still lingering in his mind like the flavor of a well-aged wine. The subject and circumstances of the dream were familiar to him – B’Elanna, being alone with her, hearing her speak her heart. Though he knew that it was just fantasy of some love-struck fool, there was something so _tangible_ about the whole thing that he found himself smiling.

His eyes focused on the ceiling above him and he blinked. _Sickbay?_

His confusion lasted only a moment as the past day came back to the forefront of his mind. Ejecting the warp core, those scavengers, shuttle explosion, B’Elanna and—his thoughts halted— _“I love you?”_

He sat up suddenly, a mild expletive escaping his gritted teeth as the sudden movement sent a jagged wave of pain down his spine. His eyes squeezed shut, an attempt to block it out. He picked up the sounds of the Doctor moving out from his office, but ignored the hologram in favor of his whirling thoughts. 

Had that actually happened? Had B’Elanna of the Forcefield Strength 200 actually let him in that much to admit love for him, let alone to herself? 

They’d been toeing the line more and more as the recent months had passed but she’d made it very definite on several occasions that further thoughts of making their relationship into something more would be shot down. Albeit, she’d do it a lot nicer now than she would’ve four years ago.

“Mr. Paris, if you would be your normal cooperative self,” the Doctor’s dry tone wasn’t missed by the pilot, “you’ll be out of here quite soon. Though I know you’ll miss Sickbay. At least until your next shift.” The Doctor’s hand moved around the young man, tricorder beeping low.

Tom slowly opened his eyes to take in the room. “B’Elanna?” his voice cracked, mouth dry after having been unconscious for however long.

The Doctor wrapped up his scan with a small noise of irritation. “As we all know, Lieutenant Torres has a bigger dislike to convalescing in Sickbay than even _you_.” The Doctor put away his tricorder. “You’re free to go, Mr. Paris. However,” he turned a stern eye on Tom, “you are to remain off duty until tomorrow. The Captain and Commander Chakotay have been informed.”

Tom made a noncommittal response as he got off the bed and made his way out the door. He nodded absently at the other crew he passed on his way to his own quarters. The small weight that had been lifted off his chest with the dream he’d had while in Sickbay settled back onto him, a familiar burden. 

Even if B’Elanna had admitted her love for him, she was likely to have her defenses back up now that the crisis had passed. Her fear of commitment rivaled his own. A corner of his lips quirked up in a mirthless smile. It was probably what had helped him move past his own anxiety of being a one-woman kind of man. When he started his subtle (and not so subtle) pursuit of her, he’d known that he’d have to commit himself wholeheartedly to her (or die by her hand – Klingon jealousy and all) but he’d been game. She was the kind of woman – loyal, fearless yet with a well of vulnerability that beckoned to him at the oddest of times – who demanded fidelity without having to say it. And he wouldn’t have it any other way with her.

He sighed as he keyed in his code at the door to his quarters. It just seemed that he couldn’t have her in _any_ way.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that her sitting there until she stood up.

“Hello, Tom,” the low voice brought his head up from contemplating the carpet. His blue eyes rounded as he took in B’Elanna’s slightly nervous gesture in straightening her hair and tugging down the blouse she was wearing. 

Her eyes met his, the hesitation clear in her gaze and his doubt of her earlier words, whispered when they were at the edge of death, fell away and he stepped forward. Her own features lightened as she saw his certainty and heard his whispered words against her cheek, “I love you, too.”

 

 

 

She’d not been able to forget that damn American: his bright eyes, his easy smile. She tried not to think of him when the Nazi had his hands on her, when thin angular lips harshly angled with hers instead of the gentle caress that she’d become accustomed to with Bobby. She’d tried to treat it as a mild fling, a summer romance that could never amount to anything, but in the quiet of the night, as her hands rested on the growing child within her belly, she’d not been able to stop the pang of regrets and longing that had shot through her.

And now he was _here_ , in the city, on some heroic quest to free the people of France from tyranny. She tried not to give it that sarcastic tinge, given that she herself was involved in that very same fight, but it was hard. Perhaps it was the undue guilt and shame rising in her heart that caused her to feel this way. She didn’t want to feel those things. She’d made her choice and _he hadn’t been there_.

Her eyes widened at the realization. She’d felt left behind, abandoned.

He glanced over at her from where he’d been conferring with his captain and she was unable to hide the emotions that the recognition of the source of her antagonism to this American. His own blue eyes widened in response.

She knew that there had to be some sort of reckoning between them.

 

 

 

What ultimately hurt was that she hadn’t come to him. They’d been in their relationship for how many months now? 

B’Elanna ignored his stare from across the table of the private dinner he’d finally managed to get her to, however reluctant. He knew that she’d wanted to sit in her dark berth by herself or head back to the holodecks where she’d now been banned. He wouldn’t hear of it though. He had some words to hash out with her.

Except they’d not said anything more than the banalities which he’d thought they were past now. Tom couldn’t help but feel hurt at how she continued to shut him out. He felt bitter. She’d let him have her body and some part of her heart, but her soul? That was for _Chakotay_. 

Perhaps he was overthinking it, maybe it was some alpha-male thing, but he almost didn’t care. 

He put his fork down on the table a little more forcefully than necessary and the sound echoed in the quiet space. B’Elanna’s gaze wandered up from her plate to his, reluctantly. The look in her dark eyes caused an ache in his chest, his frustration abating somewhat. 

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” His voice was tender as opposed to the biting he’d been planning a moment before.

For a long moment she didn’t speak, her eyes meeting his but the look in them suggesting that she was in another time, another place.

“I don’t know how to,” came her answer at last. He tried to tamp down the hurt that rose up in response, but part of it must’ve been visible as her gaze focused on him at last. 

Slowly she reached her hand out to his, trying something she’d never done before. Looking at the small but capable hand on the table, he felt the sense of hurt ease and he clasped her hand with his larger one, letting his own warmth seep into her cold skin. His gaze similarly warmed her. She gave him a small fragile smile and he knew that she’d learned something about love and long-lasting relationships in that space of a second it took her to reach out to him.

 

 

 

Strangely, she felt like blushing as she met Tom’s bright eyes, his mouth in a helpless wide grin as he watched her walk down the aisle. Involuntarily her hand tightened on Chakotay’s arm who turned his head to look questioningly at her. B’Elanna gave him a bright smile, making him grin back at her.

Her attention went back to the man who was soon to be her husband as they reached where he and the Captain were standing. They’d come a long way, the two of them. She remembered the hostility he’d engendered in her from the start and is amazed at the way that had turned into friendship and now this. Love. She was sure that some of what she was thinking was translated to her face because the blue in his eyes deepened.

Insecurity, jealousy, doubt. These no longer had room in her heart and she was glad of it. As Chakotay passed her over to Tom, and his warm hand tucked hers in the crook of his arm, she knew that he was, too.

“Officers and crew, we are gathered here today…”

 

 

 

She woke up from a light sleep with a gasp. “Tom.”

He dropped the comic book he’d replicated the week before and scrambled to kneel at the edge of the bed. “Lanna, what’s happening? Are you all right?” His gentle hands were around her face, his fingers pushing back her dark hair, his blue eyes concerned.

Her hand came up to trace the barely visible lines next to his eyes, smoothing over the worry in his gaze. She smiled softly. “I’m okay.” He let out a huff of air. “It was just…the baby…”

Finding it hard to put into words, she took his hand from where it was resting next to her on their bed, and placed it on the small bump where their baby lay. Tom was a little confused over her actions until he felt the tiny movements against his fingers.

He felt his heart swell and a smile find its way to his face. Meeting his wife’s eyes, he saw a similar look of wonder in her dark irises.

“She’s going to be strong like her mother,” he joked quietly. She just gave an indulgent smile. 

 

 

 

Being pregnant with a child out of wedlock shouldn’t be something that she’d be ashamed of in this day and age, and yet, she couldn’t help but feel so. B’Elanna may not have been one to always toe the line on rules, but she certainly hadn’t expected to be having this child alone. She felt only a little sorry for herself, it was her child she was worried about.

Looking over the schematics of the latest power relay upgrade due at the plant, she hadn’t noticed the bartender until he was almost in front of her. Catching his bright blue eyes, her heart gave a double-thud that she frowned at. The man (blond, blue eyes, fit enough) gave a startled step back at the look on her face. She struggled to blank her expression.

She mentally sighed over his attempts to engage her in some flirty talk while at the same time, silently enjoying it. Since Max had left and she’d found herself pregnant, there hadn’t been many overtures in the romantic department. However, she couldn’t really lead this guy on. He seemed nice, if a little presumptuous.

When she stood to leave and effectively silenced the bartender, she tried to feel a little triumphant over this small and petty victory, but the only thing she felt was a jangle of wrongness at leaving Tom at the table with his jaw hanging open. She felt that she should _let_ him care which was strange because she always took care of herself.

 

 

 

She was so _small_. 

It was such an unimportant detail given the scope of everything that had happened in the past half-hour, but for some reason, it was the overriding thought in B’Elanna’s mind. Never mind that she’d just given birth. Never mind that the ship had just traveled through a _Borg_ transwarp conduit and was now _back in the Alpha Quadrant_. 

No that wasn’t what filled her mind. It was the tiny person in her arms. From the dark wisps of hair flattened against the soft head, to the barely there toes, B’Elanna’s whole being was focused on her. She brought up one finger to stroke at the small ridges on the baby’s forehead. Her heart clenched at the thought that she had wanted to change this being who was perfect in every way.

Tom’s heart stopped as the sickbay doors opened before him, the primary biobed lit with warm light, highlighting B’Elanna who laid there, a bundle of blankets in her arms. He’d let go of the pilot console as soon as Janeway’s chin had moved down towards a nod and ran off the bridge, suppressing the impulse to just _transport_ down to sickbay.

B’Elanna didn’t register his presence as he moved in an almost dreamlike state towards where she lay. The Doctor had moved into his office, giving them time as a family.

Family.

Tom’s mind had a hard time wrapping around that. But there they were, in a full cliché picture moment: the mother and the child.

B’Elanna finally seemed to notice his arrival. She glanced up and met his eyes, a full-blown smile on her glowing face. It didn’t matter that she was in a random medical dress, that her dark hair was matted to her forehead; she was the most beautiful that he’d seen. 

“Tom, come say hi to our daughter.”

After months of waiting, he was a little afraid that his high hopes would be met with disappointment. Not that he’d never love their child, he’d loved her from the moment they’d found out B’Elanna was pregnant. The trepidation mainly had to do with himself, in being a father. His had never particularly been a good role model.

B’Elanna beckoned him forward with a hand and he took it, allowing himself to be drawn into the circle of light that surrounded her and the baby. 

The baby.

He took in the sweet bow mouth, the delicate eyelids that blinked over bleary dark blue eyes, the dark hair already covering her head. And the beautiful soft ridges on her forehead.

“She’s so _small,_ ” he breathed. 

B’Elanna chuckled. “That’s what I said, too. It’s a little hard to get over, isn’t it?”

He nodded, smiling at her. “Thank you,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on his wife’s forehead. Moving away, he saw tears gathered in her eyes, matching the own he felt in his. 

“Thank you, Tom,” she answered back. They smiled at their silliness.

“Here,” she motioned, bringing the baby over to his side. “Hold your daughter.”

His hands came up automatically to hold the baby, hesitation overridden by B’Elanna’s movement. Clutching the baby close in her blankets, he got a closer look at her and touched his nose to her soft hair, the unique baby smell filtering through his senses and making an indelible mark in his heart.

His heart had jumped at the first sight of B’Elanna, and it would only be fair that the same happened in looking at her daughter. _His_ daughter. His hand took up more than half the baby’s body, his other cradling the head. He felt no shame as the happy tears fell down his face when B’Elanna’s hand covered his own, feeling the flutter of Miral’s heartbeat under their fingertips.


End file.
